


Lost Boy

by Writcraft



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is back in England. Nick doesn’t even know he cares until a chance meeting brings them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at Tomlinshaw *bites nails*. Nick is still doing the Breakfast Show and living in his new place, Louis is in 1D (who are on hiatus) but otherwise this is an AU where Freddie doesn’t exist and Louis is living back in England. The title and quote are from ‘Lost Boy’ by Ruth B.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [writsgrimmyblog](https://writsgrimmyblog.tumblr.com/).

_I am a lost boy from Neverland, usually hanging out with Peter Pan and when we’re bored we play in the woods, always on the run from Captain Hook. Run, run, lost boy they say to me. Away from all reality…he sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe…believe in him and me_

*

East London’s supposed to be about nights in The Old Blue Last listening to bands the rest of the world won’t hear about for another year, if ever. It’s supposed to be Rivington Street cocktails served out of jam-jars or teapots, a drink or seven at Shoreditch House or an all-night rave at an abandoned warehouse in Hackney. It’s not supposed to be a breeding ground for gigantic knobhead former popstars, looking pissed off.

“Nicholas.” Louis looks mutinous, his chin jutting as he appraises Nick. He’s cut his hair since the last handful of grainy pictures of him surfaced in the _Daily Mail_. It’s been over a month since the papers were full of articles about Louis and his LA lifestyle. They all insinuated Louis Tomlinson was definitely losing the plot. Nick doesn’t believe it for a second. Louis’ a too pretty for his own good multi-millionaire with a healthy interest in getting boozed up and going on the pull. If he wants to spend his time in VIP rooms surrounded by Jenners and Kardashians, Nick isn’t going to judge. He’s been there himself, more than once.

“Louis. Always a pleasure.” It really isn’t, but Nick supposes he should make an effort. Things haven’t been so bad with Louis now they can largely avoid one another on account of living in different continents.

“Why are you always surrounded by pretentious hipsters?” Louis wrinkles his nose and sniffs as if he’s stumbled into the bar by accident and any ideas of making civilised small talk go out the window. 

“Why are you always such an irritating brat?” Nick rolls his eyes and orders another drink. He chooses something obnoxious and pink, mainly because he enjoys the way Louis looks at his drink with narrowed eyes. “Care for a sip?” 

“Fuck, no.” Louis pushes it away and orders a beer. He swigs it from the bottle and swipes at his lips with the back of his hand. “New part of town for you, mate.”

“Could say the same thing about you, love.” Nick takes a long drink of his cocktail and smacks his lips. He’s got that warm, lazy feeling brought about by plenty of booze and good music thrumming through his veins. He wants to dance with his friends assuming he can find them after they disappeared off and left him alone with the most annoying member of One Direction. “Back to London for good, is it?”

“Back for a while.” Louis shrugs and frowns at his beer.

“Sick of being papped falling out of night clubs with Bieber?” Nick’s not sure that’s ever happened but he’s pretty sure the suggestion’s going to annoy Louis and that’s always fun.

“Piss off,” Louis mutters. He tugs the base of his t-shirt and for the first time Nick notices he’s lost weight. The white cotton is distressed and grubby in an expensive sort of way, hanging from his slim frame. Louis hooks a finger in the neck of his t-shirt and pulls at it, revealing his raised collarbone. Nick tries not to stare at the flash of tanned skin or think about running his tongue over Louis’ body. God, he needs to get out more.

“How long’s a while?” It’s not unknown for Louis to fall off the radar for a fortnight here or a month there, these days. Perhaps this is what he does when he disappears. Perhaps he finds places no one would expect to see him and hides in pubs where half the bar staff don’t even know his name. The thought makes Nick’s chest ache for reasons he prefers not to examine too closely. He makes it his mission not to feel sorry for popstars with good looks and millions of pounds, but there’s something about Louis’ slightly lost expression that appeals to the part of him that’s great with dogs and children.

Louis shrugs. “Who knows? As long as it takes. Might go up to Donny for a bit.” He bites his lip, tugging it between his teeth. He looks away from Nick and his gaze latches on something – or someone – at the far end of the bar. “See you around, Grimshaw.”

“Looking forward to it,” Nick says in a tone which insinuates he couldn’t give two hoots about seeing Louis again. 

“Always _so_ good to catch up, pet.” Louis gives Nick a smile, all sharp teeth and sarcasm and that’s more like the Louis that Nick remembers. He pats Nick’s arm as if he’s a child that needs placating and then he’s gone, skinny jeans hanging from his backside and the dark shadows of the bar swallowing him up.

Nick orders a tequila and proceeds to get utterly wankered.

*

“Fancy seeing you again.”

“Fancy.” Nick glances at Louis, who has a smug smile on his face. He’s leaning against the counter at Nick’s local coffee shop because of course – Louis has decided to stalk Nick and make his life a living hell. “Got too much time on your hands, popstar? You must be bored if you’re following me around like a lost puppy.”

Louis laughs and orders a coffee, charming the girl behind the bar with an _alright, love_ and a scribble of his name on a napkin. When he shakes her hand, Nick wonders if she’ll ever wash again. He resists the urge to snort, tempting as it is. 

“If I wanted to stalk celebrities I think I could do better than an over the hill DJ, mate.” 

Nick does roll his eyes at that because he’s definitely not over the hill, even if those Snapchat old man filters feel a bit too close to home. He taps his fingers on the counter and waits for his coffee. No one seems particularly interested in making his drink because they're too busy making heart-eyes at Louis. He’s not going to let Louis see how much that smarts. 

“So that’s what you do, is it? Disappear off somewhere when you’re trying to escape all those party invitations and millions of pounds in the bank?”

“Something like that.” Louis throws Nick a sharp look. “There’s someone I come here to see.”

“Girlfriend?” Nick’s not sure how Louis’ managed to keep that one quiet. Harry can’t like someone’s Instagram photo these days without it making the national news.

“No.” Louis doesn’t elaborate but his cheeks flush a light pink indicating there’s definitely something up. “Finished for the day?” Louis looks curious, head cocked to the side. A flicker of something crosses his features; a flash of uncertainty which doesn't fit with his casual tone.

“You weren’t listening to the show?” Nick clutches his chest. “I’m wounded.”

Louis frowns at Nick, the corners of his mouth twisting. “You’re a dick, that’s what you are.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” 

“Only the annoying ones.” Louis smiles despite his words and something about being on the receiving end of Louis Tomlinson’s smile slides like warm treacle through Nick’s veins. 

“You might want to be a bit nicer, love. With an attitude like that you’re not going to get very far with me.”

“What do you mean by that?” Nick's words send another flicker of uncertainty over Louis’ face. He narrows his eyes at Nick, the uncertainty replaced with vague panic. “What makes you think I want to get anywhere with you?”

“Easy. Just a comment, innit?” Nick raises an eyebrow at Louis, staring at him. He’d know if Louis had any interest in men, wouldn’t he? Not least because he prides himself on recognising the signs after years of partying and pulling in London. He also thinks Harry would have told him. Possibly. “Raw nerve?”

“Shut up. I don’t know what you’re on about.” Louis’ cheeks are hot pink and he glares at Nick.

“I didn’t say a word, sweetheart.” Nick finally gets his coffee and takes it to a nearby table, Louis trudging along behind him. They sit without saying a word until it becomes uncomfortable. Nick’s never been one for silence. He likes to fill them with conversation, laughter and shots if the mood calls for it. He’s never been keen on sitting about and contemplating stuff. It’s quiet enough at night, when he’s in the flat by himself and it’s just Pig snoring or clattering about on the wooden floor.

“You don’t know anything,” Louis says. The muscles in his cheek tighten and he scowls at Nick, his hair flopping over his face. He pushes it back with a mutter of something offensive about Nick looking like a prick. Nick ignores him.

“So that’s what this is about? You left your pretty girlfriends back in America to come and snog boys in London? It’s a _he_ you’re visiting, is it?” 

Louis’ flushed and his hands twist around his coffee cup, but he doesn't deny it. He’s not even looking at Nick, staring at a spot to the left of his ear. He’s got a cross, determined sort of look about him but the slight tremble in his voice gives him away. “I don’t have a girlfriend, not that it’s any of your business.”

“That’s not what the _Mail_ reckons.”

“That paper doesn’t know its arse from its elbow.” Louis’ got that right, at least. Nick’s been on the receiving end of enough stories about his love affair with Harry to know that. “It’s not like that, anyway. I’m not back for anything like that. I’m _seeing_ someone.” Louis looks up, his expression mulish and finally the penny drops.

“Seeing someone like to talk to?” The word _therapist_ hangs unspoken between them. Nick wonders what Louis’ got to work through and whether that lost, haunted look he gets has anything to do with it.

“Yeah.” Louis pulls his napkin into small pieces, steadfastly refusing to meet Nick’s eyes. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you about this.” 

“Me neither, love.” Nick softens his words by patting Louis’ hand, pulling back when Louis yanks his hand away as if the touch burns. 

“You better not say anything about this on the radio.” Louis twists his hands in his lap and glares at Nick. “I’d fucking kill you.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Nick pokes Louis in the side when he’s sure no one’s looking. “Are you always this charming? Death threats before dinner. The way to a young boy’s heart.”

“Young?” Louis raises his eyebrows and gives Nick a smug look. Fucking twenty somethings.

“Good one.” Nick decides to let it slide. This time. “Another coffee?”

“No, I need to get off.” Louis doesn’t move, despite his words. Instead he finally meets Nick’s eyes with a sharp look. “Fuck me, is your hair always this stupid looking?”

Nick tugs his quiff and glares at Louis. He’ll take a certain amount of backchat but never about the hair. “Not everyone has a personal stylist at their beck and call.” Nick resists the urge to look in the mirror, sensing it would only give Louis more satisfaction. He glances at himself in the window instead. He looks alright. Not half bad, actually. Louis Tomlinson can arse off.

“We’re not talking about my hair, which looks better than yours by the way. We’re talking about your big gay crisis.”

“God, will you shut _up?_ ” Louis looks around with a hiss, leaning closer to Nick. His eyes flash and he presses his lips together. “We’re in the middle of London, you can’t just say stuff like that, Nicholas. Fuck.”

It shouldn’t, but Louis using his name makes a warm feeling settle in the pit of Nick’s belly which is inconvenient to say the least. Louis has always been hot in a precocious, irritating way. Hot and _straight_. Nick licks his lips and shoves thoughts of Louis on his knees to one side. 

“Bisexual crisis, then. Wanting to fuck boys. Whatever you call it.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to-”

Nick waves his hand, sitting back and staring at Louis. “Didn’t have to, love. It’s written all over your face.”

Louis rubs his hand to his cheek as if it actually is, as if it might be. Nick finds it almost endearing. Louis stands and nearly knocks over his coffee in the process.

“I should have known you’d be a prick about this. You don’t know anything.”

Nick takes in the way Louis’ t-shirt hangs from his frame and his slim physique, his head bowed and his hat pulled over his head as if he doesn’t want to be seen. Nick might not know everything, but he knows a bit and Louis isn’t the first person in his life to need a bit of help. He resists the urge to reach for Louis to tug him close. They’re in the middle of a coffee shop and people are staring, after all. 

“Give me your phone.”

“No.” Louis reaches into his pocket even as he says it, hand hovering before he pushes it in Nick’s direction. 

With a roll of his eyes, Nick enters his number and passes the phone back to Louis. 

“You know where I am.” 

Louis stares at the number before typing _is a twat_ after Nick’s name and leaves without saying goodbye. 

At least he didn’t delete the number. Nick supposes it’s progress, of a sort.

*

Louis doesn't bother texting Nick. Instead he turns up at Nick's flat on Friday night when Nick should be out with his friends instead of sitting around in his glasses and joggers, dicking around on Snapchat.

Louis pushes past Nick, tugging off his beanie. He looks like he's tried to hide himself in layers of too-baggy clothes, his jumper pooling around his slender frame, his hands disappearing beneath the loose sleeves. 

“Come in, please. Not like I was enjoying a quiet night in or anything.” Nick closes the door with a slam. Louis can be such a brat. 

“Why are you such a knob?” 

Louis' hair is fluffy, sticking up at all angles. He shoves up the sleeves of his jumpers, balling his hands into fists as if Nick's the one forcing Louis to come over unannounced on a Friday night.

Nick stares at Louis, watching the flush which makes its way up his neck until his cheeks bloom dusky pink. He narrows his eyes, staring at Nick as though it actually hurts. 

“Everything okay, pet?”

Louis doesn't answer. “Why did you put your number in my phone?”

Nick shrugs. He has no idea, if he's honest. “Dunno. Thought you might need a friendly ear.”

Louis' lips twitch and he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you and me are such good friends.”

“You're round mine on a Friday night. That's friendly.”

Louis' still flushed and he looks down, letting out a huff of breath. “Not sure why I am. Round at yours, I mean.”

“Me neither.” Nick can't quite breathe. Louis' closer now, still flushed and lovely looking. He looks so cross and fierce, drowning in his cosy jumper. Nick wants to tug him closer. He grips the sleeve of the jumper lightly. Louis takes it as an invitation to step closer, which it definitely was. Nick’s hand slips from the sleeve to Louis’ waist as the small space between them fills with the fresh, soapy scent of Louis. He’s wearing some sort of shampoo which makes him smell like citrus and his skin has that air-flushed look to it as if he might have been out wandering around before plucking up the courage to knock on Nick’s door. 

“Nick...” Louis sounds panicked and breathless, voice rougher than usual. “I haven’t…I mean, I don’t…”

“Not your usual Friday night pull?” Nick’s so close now he can stroke his fingers down Louis’ back and touch the shiver which passes thought the full length of his spine.

“Not exactly.” Louis’ words catch in his throat and he’s so, so close his breath is warm and tea-sweet on Nick’s cheek. There’s something about Louis that sends a fiercely protective part of Nick into overdrive. It makes him hot, hard and needy all at once. 

“Suppose you’d better come in, then.” 

Louis’ already inside, technically. Nick’s not sure if he’s trying to get Louis into his living room, his bedroom or his life. He’s not sure about anything anymore because Louis’ close enough that it makes Nick dizzy with want in a way he hasn’t been in ages. In the end they’re still standing in the hallway when Nick kisses Louis. There’s nothing tentative or gentle about it. If Louis’ going to come over looking small and soft he should know what he’s getting himself into. Nick doesn’t really _do_ gentle in bed. He doesn’t do whips and chains either, but he likes a good, rough snog against a wall and a bit of shoving each other around on occasion. The way Louis is – the way he looks – makes Nick want to take him apart piece by piece and put him back together again. 

Louis’ breath stutters into Nick’s mouth, his lips pliant and eager. He wraps his arms around Nick’s neck, one hand twining into Nick’s hair and tugging. The movement makes Nick groan into the kiss and he pushes Louis back against a wall, maneuvering them both so he can push his thigh between Louis’ legs and feel him pressing close, desperate for purchase. _Fuck_ Louis’ hard. He’s hard already, whimpering into the kiss and making small noises which sound like _please_ and Nick’s name, over and over.

“Please what, darling?” 

“I don’t bloody know, do I?” Louis sounds cross and husky even as he pushes closer for another kiss, his words catching in his throat. “You’re the one who does this all the time.”

That’s not strictly true, not these days at least. Still, Nick can’t help but preen. He always likes to be reminded of the fact he knows how to get a good-looking boy in his bed. 

“How much do you do this? With boys?”

Louis rolls his eyes and fine – Nick’s not exactly a _boy_ but there’s no need to be rude about it. Nick gives his arse a squeeze in retaliation and Louis’ eyelids flutter closed, a puff of warm air leaving parted lips. He gives Nick a look, his lips well-kissed and his cheeks pink.

“Not a lot.” He juts his chin. “Not ever, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Beg to differ.” Nick sinks into another desperate kiss, hardly able to finish his sentence when they pull apart. “The fact you’re here on a Friday kissing me makes it my business.”

Louis huffs but doesn’t send another shot across the bows. Instead he bites his bottom lip and stares at Nick’s lips. The hand in Nick’s hair tightens and they’re back where they were – snogging against the wall with low murmurs of words which don’t even make sense because it’s Nick and Louis and they’ve always just about tolerated one another. The almost breathy pleas and the _what do you wants_ sound out of place between the two of them where there’s usually fight and fire.

Nick makes the first move to take things further, hand pushing between them. He grips Louis’ cock as best he can through his jeans and rubs him with the heel of his palm. Louis lets out a ragged groan, his words splintered in half as he breathes out Nick’s name. He’s bucking forward, kissing Nick like he hates him and then – god – he comes with a stutter and he _pushes_. He pushes Nick backwards, slumping against the wall and rubbing his hand over his cheeks, flushed and pink and his frame looking so, so small in his enormous jumper.

Nick steadies his breathing and then moves back to Louis, tilting his chin up. He presses their lips together, just once and Louis nearly whines into it as if any capacity for speech has left him.

“It’s polite to return the favour, love.”

“But I just…”

“I know.” Nick _does_ know because it was one of the hottest thing he’s had the pleasure of seeing in a long while. “I liked it.”

Louis’ eyes narrow and he toys with the edge of Nick’s joggers. God, Nick’s so hard. If Louis doesn’t touch him soon, he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands. “Yeah?”

“Feels like it, doesn’t it?” Nick pushes Louis’ hand against the front of his joggers where they’re tenting out, hoping Louis will get the message. 

Thankfully, it does the trick. “Yeah. You’re so fucking peculiar.” Louis rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. His eyes shine with it and his voice is steadier – his confidence flooding back. Nick loves a sassy popstar. Louis squeezes and then he _finally_ gets his hand around Nick, shoving his joggers down. He tugs Nick into a breathy, messy kiss and fists Nick’s prick in his hand with little finesse.

It’s inexpert, too tentative at first and the angle’s awkward as fuck. Nick feels like a right prat with his joggers half off, standing in his hall with his dick out. He half expects Pig to come and investigate or someone to let themselves in to see why he’s not off clubbing on a Friday night. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, his cock hard in Louis’ smaller hand. He’s still got Louis pushed against the wall, there’s hot, toned skin beneath his fingertips and even after coming he can tell Louis’ getting into it again. 

He kisses Louis with a groan, pushing into his fist and then he’s coming in hard spurts between them with almost embarrassing speed. Louis pulls back, smug as fuck and then - _god_ \- he lifts his hand to his lips and tastes. Like it’s fucking jam or something. Louis Tomlinson, smug and hot-cheeked in Nick’s hallway licking come from his fingers. It’s a sight for sore eyes. Nick wants to frame it. He’d Snapchat it if it wasn’t so soul crushingly intimate and if Nick’s heart wasn’t doing this mad kind of swoopy thing which settles in his stomach and makes him want to tug Louis closer.

“Pervert.” Nick sounds so fond when he says it and he’s kissing Louis, licking at his lips to taste himself.

“You too.” Louis smiles against Nick’s lips and bucks forward as if he’s ready to go again – or soon will be. 

Nick pulls up his joggers and puts some distance between them, largely so he can think straight.

“Beer?”

“Might as well.” Louis shrugs and gives Nick a side-long look. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“There’s good telly on tonight. I’m going to miss Gogglebox.” Nick couldn’t give a fuck, honestly, but he likes the way it makes Louis glare at him, sharp and fierce.

“We’ll watch your shit telly if you like. Beats talking to you.” Triumphant, Louis smiles but there’s something behind the sharpness – a shyness and uncertainty which has been there since their first encounter in a busy London bar.

“Go on, then. Might want to wash your hands. Bathroom’s that way.” Nick knows he sounds smug, largely because he is.

“You’re awful,” Louis mutters. Still, he makes his way to the bathroom while Nick gets the beers and finally they’re sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, staring at the telly.

They don’t speak for a good twenty minutes until Nick’s pretty much sweating with the desire to say something – anything. He talks for a living. He doesn’t do long silences unless there’s something good happening on Twitter and he needs to concentrate. 

“This is fun.” Finally, words in the room settle between them. Nick’s three beers in which is good going after twenty minutes. He supposes it’s the Louis Tomlinson effect. Driven to drink by not quite as straight as he thought popstars popping over for a mutual wanking session. What the fuck is he doing?

“Didn’t think you’d be so boring, mate. Would have bought my slippers if I’d known.” Louis’ still watching the TV, his lips curving into a smile as he practically fellates his beer. He stops, thankfully and looks at Nick. The warmth in the room has left his skin flushed and his eyes shine with something which makes Nick’s heart pound out of his chest.

“You’re such a brat.” Nick reaches for Louis, even as he says it. He’s not sure why. It’s not like he and Louis can sit and cuddle on the sofa together. That would be weird. 

Louis shifts closer until he’s in Nick’s lap, straddling him and blocking out Nick’s view of anything else. It takes Nick’s breath away.

“Hiya.” Louis grins, like the little shit he is. 

Nick squeezes his arse and pulls him closer. “Hi.” He brushes Louis’ hair back from his forehead with the hand not currently groping the finest backside in London. “You’re blocking the telly, pet.”

“You’re stupid and I hate you.” Louis sounds delighted, a laugh falling from his lips even as he pinches Nick in the side. “Can’t you stop being a knob for one minute?”

Nick shrugs because the answer to that is _probably not_. He can be a bit of a twat sometimes and Louis brings out the worst in him. He tugs Louis closer and kisses him, soft and slow. At least that’s the plan. Instead it turns into this fierce, breathless thing which leaves them both panting and Louis grinding in his lap. 

“Why did you come here?” Nick stills Louis, gripping his thighs and it pulls a groan from Louis’ lips.

“I thought you might be up for it. You’ve got the biggest mouth on the planet but you know when to keep a secret. That’s what Harry used to say, anyway.”

“Thanks, Harold.” Nick rolls his eyes. It’s not exactly flattering, but it’s true. He tells his friends everything but the radio listeners and press get what he wants to tell them. Enough to keep things interesting but not the kind of stuff that outs his friends or breaks someone’s confidence. He knows the difference between gossiping about Kanye or playing up to his friendship with Harry with a few anecdotes about his _friend_ without having to tell the world about the time Harry called, exhausted, in tears and desperate to come home. He’s not an idiot. He’s been friends with enough people in the public eye over the years to know when idle gossip becomes broken hearts and front page news. He’s better at secrets than people think. He’s had plenty of practice keeping them, is the thing. More than he’d like, when he’s got friends drowning in their own celebrity and he wishes people would just _see_ or help or something. He hates it when he can’t help. When he loses people too young.

“You can keep a secret, can’t you?” Louis pokes Nick, frowning at him. “I’m not going to be on the radio on Monday?”

“I doubt anyone would believe me if I tried to tell them, love.” Nick pulls a face and pictures Twitter telling him to eat glass. “So that’s what this is? You want to try out something different and I seem like a good bet?” It’s not the most flattering reason, but Nick’s probably going to take it. He’d quite like to get his prick sucked tonight and Louis’ the only one offering right now. 

“Don’t make it sound like that.” Louis’ still frowning, cheeks warm. He pulls off his jumper and drops it on the floor, his t-shirt loose around his torso. “Like it’s just convenient. It’s not…”

He trails off, biting his lip and the fierce look returns. It’s interesting to say the least and Nick’s stomach swoops in a way that means he’s probably headed for disaster. He’s suddenly desperate not to put labels on it – not to pull at that thread. It just _is_ , they just _are_.

“There are things you can stroke other than my ego, darling.” Nick slides his fingers under Louis’ t-shirt, pulling another shiver from Louis which travels the full length of his body. “I’ve never been one for relationships, me. If you want a bit of fun, I’m happy to oblige.”

Louis looks like he wants to protest but then Nick’s hand is in his hair and their lips crash together again. Louis is a treasure when he’s snogging rather than talking. He’s pliant and needy, his lips soft and firm at the same time. His kisses are biting and eager, his breath jagged and rough. Nick could kiss Louis and never stop. Isn’t that a thought? He breaths out Louis’ name in a broken off _Lou_ which says far more about the tumult of feelings coursing through Nick’s veins and sending daggers of want straight into his heart.

“Will you fuck me?” Louis’ voice is low and rough, his words barely there at all.

“Yeah,” Nick says, because, well. Obviously he’s going to fuck Louis. He nudges Louis from his lap and they make their way to Nick’s room, collapsing on the bed in a tangle of limbs. They manage to get themselves undressed between kisses and insults. _God, Nick, hurry up_ (Louis) and _steady on, popstar, I’m getting there. Christ, will you just stop biting, fuck_ (Nick).

When they’re naked and Louis’ spread out on the bed, Nick’s breath catches in his throat. He has to remind himself Louis’ still a knob and Nick’s just a convenient fuck. It’s all there is. There’s nothing else. There’s no reason for his heart to _thud, thud_ as if this might just be one of those life defining moments people talk about that Nick’s never really experienced before. They’re not going to roll out of nightclubs hand in hand or eat ice-cream in the park on a hot summer’s day with Pig barking and being gloriously Pig-like and annoying while they both laugh and kiss, sweet, icy kisses. It’s not going to be like that. It’s Louis fucking Tomlinson. He’s _seeing someone_ with a whole lifetime of things to work out and Nick doesn’t have the faintest clue what they are. He’s one of the biggest boyband members in the world, used to long, comfortable relationships with pretty girls who keep themselves out of the press. He’s not about to start wanging on to the _Mirror_ about his fondness for cock, quiffs and a thirty-something DJ.

“Come on, then.” Louis looks defiant, staring at Nick with dark eyes. “Get on with it.”

“Shut up, will you?” Nick glares at Louis and then gets the lube and condoms, dumping them on the bed. He’s not sure why he’s got a whole stack of them out, but as he’s all fingers and thumbs at the moment it’s not like he’s got time to pick one out from the clutter in his bedside drawer. 

“I’m ready.” Louis tugs Nick closer and he definitely _isn’t_ , but Nick decides he’s going to ignore Louis being so bloody bossy and get on with the kissing. 

Kissing Louis when he’s naked and rubbing against Nick is almost too much. Nick’s going to be lucky if he makes it to the fucking at this rate, with Louis whimpering in his mouth and nipping at his neck and saying _come on, come on, come on_ like he’’s so desperate for it.

“You’re so desperate for it.” Nick slicks his fingers and rubs them against Louis’ hole, watching as the low groan slides from his lips and his eyelids flutter closed. “Yeah. So desperate to be fucked. How long? How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Nick…Grim…don’t, I haven’t…” Louis sucks in a breath when Nick slides one long finger slowly inside him. Christ, he’s tight. “Ages, alright you fucker? Ages. Since the Teen Awards or summat. Just…”

Nick stills, the air leaving his lungs. Since when? He meant how long had Louis been thinking about being fucked by another man. Even as much as he loves himself he hadn’t thought for one minute that Louis might have been thinking about _him_. Thinking about him for bloody _years_ through numerous girlfriends, Twitter spats and avoiding each other as much as possible. Through pissy comments at award events and long arguments about Harry and Nick being a total dick. Through all of that, Louis was…what? Nick can’t process it now, he can’t process any of it. He’s on the edge of a cliff and he’s going to fall down, down to the ground. He works Louis open and holds him down, one large hand on Louis’ thigh as he stares at him.

He’s beautiful, is what he is. Sharp angles, stupid high voice and the biggest smile in the world. He’s flushed, perspiring and rocking back against Nick as he comes apart. Nick’s doing this. With his fingers, he’s fucking Louis Tomlinson like he’s never been fucked before. He’s taking him apart, piece by piece and watching as Louis begs – actually _begs_ \- for more. 

“Steady, love. I’ve got you.” Nick breathes into Louis’ ear and kisses him – hot, hard and heavy. It’s a dirty, open-mouthed kind of kiss with too much teeth and tongue. It’s a filthy, on the edge sort of kiss and Nick twists and curls his fingers until Louis’ shoving him back with a weak push and shaking his head. 

“Gonna come. Don’t want to.”

“Then hold back for me.” Nick slides his fingers from Louis, sliding his hands over Louis’ body. He presses down on Louis’ stomach and runs his tongue over the head of Louis’ cock, tasting him. He spreads Louis’ legs, the salty flavour of Louis’ pre-come and perspiration salty on his tongue. He dips lower, tonguing at Louis’ hole and drawing a shout from Louis.

“God, Nick. Get on with it, fucking get _on with it_.”

“Patience, sweetheart.” Nick grins and bites Louis’ thigh lightly. His hips jerk and finally Nick slides on a condom, nudging at Louis and kissing him again as he pushes inside.

When he’s fully seated he finds himself staring down at Louis, their eyes meeting and their breathing heavy in the still room.

He’s totally screwed.

 

Louis reaches up and does something weird with Nick’s hair, tugging and then dropping his hands to curl in the sheets.

“Stupid. So stupid.”

“Yeah,” Nick agrees. He is stupid. They both are. This isn’t going to end well, it can’t. He ignores his own ridiculous brain for a moment to push into Louis again in one smooth stroke. Louis is responsive and vocal, his hands clutching onto Nick and then stroking down his back. They kiss again – fierce and hard. It’s so good. Louis feels divine, tight and hot. The heat of his body grips Nick and every stroke is blissfully good. Every stutter of Louis’ breath and the pounding of their hearts together send Nick into overdrive. He’s got Louis Tomlinson in his bed, they’re doing this as if they’ve spent the last few years working up to this moment. It’s like they fit together in a way neither of them expected.

When Louis comes, it takes Nick by surprise. Untouched and broken, he jerks up and his cock spurts over his belly. Nick slides his fingers through it, taken by surprise. He keeps going through Louis’ spasms when a soft whine from Louis rips Nick’s orgasm from him. He rolls off Louis, tying off the condom and dropping it in the bin.

“Nick?” Louis’ voice is smaller than usual and Nick isn’t sure he can speak. This is without question either the very best or very worst thing he’s ever done. He’s not sure yet. “Nick?” Louis repeats, cross this time. He jabs Nick in the side with a sharp finger and Nick isn’t sure how he can be so bratty when Nick’s boneless and wondering if he’s lost his heart as well as his mind.

“What? I’m having a moment.” Nick stills Louis’ hand and tugs him close until they’re folded together in a mess of sweaty limbs, sex and low breathing in the air around them.

“Thanks.” Louis rubs his cheek against Nick’s chest and it’s more charming than it has any right to be. 

“You’re welcome.” It’s such a stupid conversation. Nick’s in a parallel universe, it’s the only explanation. He’s going to wake up and discover he’s just had a really great dream. Then he can go back to hating Louis or finding him annoying or whatever he feels these days. He doesn’t know anymore, if he’s honest. He didn’t realise he cared. He wonders how to pretend he still doesn’t.

“Knackered.” Louis doesn’t sound like he’s going anywhere, half asleep and brushing his lips against Nick’s chest.

“Yeah.” Nick knows that feeling. He cards his fingers through Louis’ hair and lets out a ragged breath. “Sleep, popstar.”

He listens to Louis breathing and stares into the darkness and closes his eyes.

He has no idea where they go from here but with Louis warm, small and sleepy in his bed, Nick reckons it can wait until morning.

_~Fin~_


End file.
